


Permission

by Tomstinkerbell



Category: Loki (Marvel) - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: D/s, Dom!Loki, Dominance, F/M, Fingering, Masturbation, Punishment, Spanking, Subisssion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 17:14:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12040518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomstinkerbell/pseuds/Tomstinkerbell
Summary: Just something very quickly written and not well edited.  In other words, something infinitely stoopid.Dom!Loki, D/s, Masturbation, Fingering, Spanking, Punishment, Dominance, Submission





	Permission

**Author's Note:**

> Just something very quickly written and not well edited. In other words, something infinitely stoopid.
> 
> Dom!Loki, D/s, Masturbation, Fingering, Spanking, Punishment, Dominance, Submission

“Just what exactly is it that you think you are doing?”

 

Oh, God!

 

The God’s booming voice – _your_ God’s - was one of the most potent tools he owned, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were extremely susceptible to it, especially when it was as deeply chastising, as it was now. 

 

That was to say nothing of the impressive sight of him.

 

Although a shiver ran rampant through every single bit of you, causing your nipples to tighten even further than they already had been, you were much too involved in what you were doing – much, much too close to where you wanted to be - to respond in what he would consider the correct fashion, opting instead for a sarcastic tone you would soon be given cause to regret.

 

“I should think it would be obvious to even the most casual of observers . . .” you answered, closing your eyes against the sight of him standing there at the end of the bed you shared - muscular arms crossed over his equally muscular chest, looking thoroughly outraged - but ignoring him in favor of trying to focus on what you were doing -  lying on your back with your legs spread, both hands between them, holding yourself widely open – as was your preference - fingers furiously flicking the bean you’ve ruthlessly exposed –

 

That was, until you found both of your wrists captured in one of his hands as he stretched himself out beside you, bringing them well above your head and rendering them immediately and utterly useless.  His free hand cupped – none too gently – the ultra sensitive area you’d just been concentrating on, since you hadn’t had the chance to even think about closing your legs yet . . . as if that would have kept him out, anyway. 

 

“This _\- this_ is _mine_ ,” Loki growled possessively.  “You are _not_ to touch yourself here -” he squeezed his whole hand, making you jump and squeal “ - unless you have been given permission to do so.”

 

“I didn’t know that!” you whined in your own defense.  “You never told me I couldn’t.”

 

The slight pause before he spoke, not to mention the lowering of his voice even further, should have been fair warning to you, but you were beyond noticing such things, desperately trying to keep yourself from rubbing your lady bits against the long, elegant fingers that were right . . . _there_. 

 

“Well, I am telling you _now_.”

 

You managed – barely – too suppress the urge to roll your eyes at him, but the extent of your frustrations seeped into your tone, apparently.

 

“Yeah, fine, whatever.”

 

Loki instantly went unnervingly still.  “Is that how you address me – in such an insulting and impudent tone?”

 

Finally, through the layers of unrequited lust that had you throbbing beneath the palm and fingers of his hand where it still held you so intimately, you realized that you needed to adjust your attitude before he did it _for_ you, replying quickly, and as meekly as you could possibly manage, “Yes, Sir.”

 

Forcing you to look at him with a finger under your chin – that nonetheless distracted you a bit because it smelled of your own essence – he asked with annoying neutrality, “You still wish to submit yourself to me?”

 

Without a second of thought, you gave him your heartfelt response, a little worried at the question, frankly, “Oh, yes, please!” 

 

Almost before you had the words out, you found yourself laid out over his lap – which might have given you that second of thought – pinned there, wrists now held behind your back, one of his legs over yours, rendering you entirely unable to defend yourself against him in any way.  “Good, because your naughtiness wants punishment, lest you take it into your head – or your hands – to ever again display to me either this unacceptable attitude or behavior.”

 

The spanking he gave you was the worst you’d ever experienced at anyone’s hands, and by the time he finished, you were a sobbing, begging mess with a behind that was an alarming shade of red – not that he took that into consideration when he put you back into the same position you’d been in when he’d found you, surprising you by bringing your hands down to yourself as you were still sobbing softly and ordering, “Continue.”

 

But you removed your hands immediately, reaching above your head.

 

“Are you disobeying me _again_?” he asked, and you knew you were seconds away from experiencing round two of his hand on your backside, and you knew you wouldn’t survive that, so you rushed to explain.

 

“No, Sir!  I need something to keep me slippery.”

 

Having already positioned himself between your legs, his presence there requiring you to keep them just that much further apart, he dragged his knowing fingers up the delicate inside of your slit.  “I seem to be encountering copious evidence to the contrary, my darling,” he purred.  “Which also has me thinking that I should have spanked you much, much harder.”

 

One set of cheeks began to rapidly match the color of the other as you completely forget what you were doing – abandoning what you were reaching for - in favor of trying to convince him that he certainly did not need to spank you harder.  “No – no, you shouldn’t!”

 

“Put your hands were I have said they belong, angel.”  His dark rumble had you obeying him immediately.  “Touch yourself.  I want to watch you do so while you are full of me.”

 

With that, he rolled onto you – his gorgeous black suit disappearing - leaving him nude, his fully engorged, seeping cock nudging boldly up against your vulnerable entrance.

 

There was nothing in the world that could ever prepare you for his possession of you – even when he was being tender and gentle when he took you.  And this time was not that, as he snapped his hips forward – holding your gaze the entire time as he wedged himself up inside you, forcing your body to accept and accommodate him whether it wanted to or not, leaning down to curve his hands around your widely spread thighs, using them as leverage to make certain that he seated himself as fully as possible within you while you whimpered and gasped and tried to writhe away, your body contracting involuntarily around him, seeking some kind of relief from the unrelenting, more than just uncomfortable, feeling of being stretched almost past your limits.

 

While you were still just beginning to trying to deal with the situation he’d put you in, he scolded sternly, “I’m not going to tell you again where your hands should be, woman.”

 

Trying not to mewl at his autocratic edict, you do as you’re told, and as you apply your fingers to your even more vulnerably exposed self, you’re right back where you were before he’d appeared – very, very close to fulfillment.

 

Especially since he was continuing to plunge himself into you, fit to jar your bones and make you gasp loudly each time.

 

But, despite what he’d said before, there was something that was very necessary to the process that was still distinctly missing, so you stopped.  “Sir?”

 

“Yes?” he asked, with quite a lot of suspicion, reaching down to grab a nipple between each thumb and forefinger, pinching and rolling them hard, as if in warning.

 

“I – I _do_ need . . .”  Why you should be embarrassed to say this, you’d never know, but you can feel the blush washing over you, and you can see that he’s intrigued by it.

 

“What do you need, little girl, besides to be fucked until you can’t remember any name but mine?”

 

The pain in your nipples makes it hard for you to concentrate, to say nothing of the cock that was relentlessly splitting you open.  “L - lube.  Head-unnnnhhh-b-board.”

 

“Hmmm.”  He looked down at where your bodies were joined.  “I guess I am making use of your natural honey myself at the moment.”  Loki glanced behind you, then back down to your hands.  “Which fingers do you use predominantly when you pleasure yourself?”

 

How was it that he could make you blush so hard it hurt when no one else ever could? 

 

Nonetheless, not wanting another punishment, you showed him the index and middle fingers of your right hand without comment or complaint.  He touched his fingertips to them and you felt yours tingle a bit – not unpleasantly, then he took your hand in his, placing your fingertips right on top of your clit.

 

“No more stalling, my love.  I want to feel you tightening helplessly around me as take your body for my own pleasure.”

 

His words – and the dominant way in which he said them – made you groan as your fingers curled over that very swollen, very eager bud, beginning to worry it while Loki caught your ankles and put them up by his shoulders, leaning into you and snapping his hips forward viciously with each powerful thrust.

 

It didn’t take you long to realize that your fingers were never _not_ slippery with whatever it was that he’d endowed them with when he’d touched them.

 

“You must tell me when you’re close.”

 

Knowing you have to answer him, you can barely get it out – coherence wasn’t your friend at the moment, “Y-yes . . . Sssssiiirrrrrr.”

 

Seconds later, you practically screamed, “C-clooooooosssee!”

 

He chuckled, but you couldn’t even process that, especially not once he redoubled his efforts at drilling you into the mattress.   “No matter what, do _not_ you let those fingers stop for a second – even after you have cum the _first_ time – or you will be made to regret it.  You may not stop until I give you permission to do so.”

 

Eyes having drifted closed long since, you whisper, “Yes, Sir.” 

 

“Look at me.”  It took tremendous effort, but you pried your eyes open, your whole body spasming when you encountered his intent green ones.  “Keep looking at me.  I intend to watch you fall apart around me.”

 

As you always did when he touched you.

 

Helplessly.

 

Explosively.

 

And, sometimes, involuntarily.

 

And this time was absolutely no difference for your involvement in your own downfall.

 

You could feel that unmistakable, familiar tension gathering beneath your fingers, breathing becoming even more ragged, as he jack-hammered himself into you relentlessly, his eyes never leaving yours.

 

“Uh – oh – fuck – my - God -”

 

“You called, little one?”  His smile was closer to a grimace than he might have wanted it to be.

 

“Luh – uh – Lo – Loki!  LOKI!!  LLLLOOOOOKKKIIIII!”

 

Your response was much too potent for him to resist – the way your body spasmed around him, grasping eagerly at him, shuddering and shaking, watching you pleasure yourself, hearing his name pass your lips at a time when he knew you could have no other thought – and he lost the battle with himself, too, which he might have found worrisome if he had the ability to think.  No other woman had ever so challenged his control.

 

He was overtaken to the point of breaking his gaze with you and roughly grabbing your hips, growling savagely as he held you still for his final assault, knowing you were going to be wearing his fingerprints for a while afterwards, that thought making him squeeze his fingers even harder, surging into you a few more times as he spilled himself against your hot, wet walls.

 

He didn’t need the amount of recovery time a mortal man required, and was hard again almost immediately as your fingers continued to brush over your oversensitive clit.

 

Giving you a terribly self-satisfied look, he ordered in a husky whisper, “Again, my darling.  And then again, and then again after that . . . until you are well and truly used up and begging me for permission to stop.”


End file.
